


Safe Enough

by Persephone



Series: Lord's F*cken Name [4]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Brotherhood, Brothers, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephone/pseuds/Persephone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cock measurin'. How else are ya gonna determine who's the eldest?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe Enough

Compared to the rest of him, physically, his nuts could only be considered an after thought. The kind of thing you thought of only after a warm tongue began licking them, say. _Mmm, yes._ A nice warm licking would definitely reaffirm their importance in his life.

Because right now he had to be convinced all over again that the little shits were worth having.

Connor released a deep resigned breath, lifted the half melted bag of ice off his naked crotch and dropped it with a wet crunch on the floor next to his bed. He adjusted the pillows so he was half sitting up, and blew into his cupped hands. Then he carefully cupped his crotch, closing his eyes on a long sigh. He rubbed gently.

Ahh, Jaysus, that was good. The ice had done its work, and now a good amount of heat was all he needed to set him and his abused crotch to rights again. Abused, because who couldn’t take a fucken joke? Rozengurtle Pre-Op. That’s who. And what kind of a potential man gave another a shot to the nuts?

He sighed again and carefully spread his legs wider, rubbing, rubbing. Where the fuck was Murph with the hot water bottle? How long did it take a normal person to travel three city blocks to the grocery store and make one purchase?

And wouldn’t he scream his fucken head off if after all this, there was no running hot water? Yes he fucken would.

He heard the door open and sighed with relief, keeping his eyes closed and saying a Hail Mary as Murphy hooked up his rosary, crossed the room and turned on the tap. He couldn’t even bring himself to ask whether the water was hot or not. He’d know soon enough.

After a few moments the tap switched off and Murphy’s heavy footsteps clomped to his bedside. The bag of ice sloshed as Murphy kicked it aside and knelt bedside his bed, gently placing the rubber water bottle on his crotch. Not hot, but absolutely deliciously warm.

“Murph,” he moaned, melting into the bed. “Who says ye don't have yer uses?”

When he got no reply he forced one eyelid open and peeked at Murphy. Murphy was kneeling with his elbows resting beside Connor on the bed, staring intently at him and chewing hard on his lower lip.

Connor shut his eye again, frowning. “What’s the matter?”

There was silence for a few more moments, then Murphy quietly said, “I need to do some measurin’.”

Connor scrunched up his face, but didn’t open his eyes. “How do you mean?”

“Look.”

He opened both eyes and saw that Murphy was holding up a wooden ruler. It was the type primary school had been littered with, the type the Sisters had been so proficient in using on the boys.

Connor frowned in confusion first at the ruler, then at Murphy. “What the fuck is that?”

Murphy narrowed dark glinting eyes at him. “You know what the fuck this is,” he whispered.

Connor lifted an eyebrow. “Aye, but why do ye have it?”

“I told ya,” Murphy muttered, a small frown starting to form around his chewed and slightly swollen mouth. “I need to do some measurin’. Ma said—”

Connor groaned and fell back against the pillows, pressing the rubber bottle to him and closing his eyes again. “Christ, Murph. Ignore what the woman said, alright? It was a rude thing to say to her boys, and it meant nothin’.”

Murphy placed his hand on Connor’s bicep and shoved him slightly but insistently. “But if we measured, we’d fucken know, wouldn’t we?”

Connor refused to respond, and Murphy tightened his grip on his arm. He shook him harder. “Connor.”

Connor groaned and turned to his brother. How long had he patiently waited for the warmth of the water bottle on his crotch? Could he not just get some time alone with it?

“And what would ye know?” he sighed. Murphy stared stubbornly at him, his frown deepening, but didn't reply. “All it would establish is who’s got the bigger appendage. Which doesn’t logically say anything about which one of us is the elder.”

He lifted one side of his mouth and regarded Murphy in a way he hoped succinctly captured his view on the matter.

Murphy began to look thoughtful, a truly sore sight, and Connor snorted and settled on his back again. “Shift closer, brother. At least yer skin is nice an’ warm.”

Murphy moved closer and pressed into his side, resting his chin on Connor’s arm. His body heat felt good and solid, and Connor let out a blissful hum. Now if only Murphy would just hold still and not say another word.

“But Connor…”

 _JaysusfuckenChrist._ “Forget it, Murph.”

“It'd be so easy," Murphy insisted. "Here’s how it would work. We’d take a measure, and whoever is bigger gets to be the older brother, just as Ma declared.”

Connor snorted. “Great fucken idea, Murph. First of all, Mother didn’t _declare_ anything. Second, I’m not giving up my status as yer older brother, based on something that stupid.”

Murphy whacked the top of his head with the ruler.

“Fuuck,” Connor whimpered, letting go of the water bottle long enough to rub the crown of his head.

“It’s not stupid, Connor,” Murphy insisted. “We should just agree to have that be the standard, and that’ll settle it once and for all.”

Connor groaned silently at the note of frustration that had crept into Murphy’s voice. Murph was digging in for a tenacious bout. Which meant it was time to put a stop to this foolishness, or risk the situation deteriorating rapidly.

“Murph,” he began patiently. “ _Bigger_ is a relative term—”

“Yeah. Mine relative to yours.”

“—which,” he continued, ignoring the interruption, “can either mean height, length or breath. Or even volume, for that matter.”

“Jesus, Connor. We’ll just _pick_ one—”

“However,” he continued, pouring the words out at a faster pace. “The real conundrum of the word _bigger,_ is, of course, that despite its initial appearance of giving a choice of designations, it actually doesn’t. All three categories have to be satisfied for something to really qualify as—”

He let out a sharp yelp as Murphy suddenly launched from the floor and jumped on him, straddling his thighs and roughly pushing them together.

“Fucken _shut it,_ Connor!”

The ruler cracked once more against Connor's skull. Connor mewled and reached for Murphy’s arm, but Murphy held the ruler out of reach and grabbed his left shoulder with his free hand. He held Connor down against the pillows.

“You don't have a fucken _choice,_ ” Murphy hollered, then thwacked him across the shoulder. “Ya fucken smart ass!”

He howled and squirmed under him, holding on to the water bottle and choking back his laughter.

“It hurts every time you do that, you know, Murph!”

But Murphy wasn’t laughing. Oh fuck, he was in trouble now, ’cause Murph was concentrating. His eyes had narrowed into evil little slits and his face had set in an even more evil sneer. And he weighed a fucken ton, practically crushing Connor's thighs were he sat on them.

“Get that fucken thing off your cock,” Murphy warned through pursed lips. “Or I’ll fucken do it myself.”

When he didn’t respond fast enough for Murphy’s liking – ’cause Christ, didn't it feel good to get squeezed like that between Murphy's thighs – he got thwacked across the chest, then stomach, and suddenly scary flashes of devils disguised as nuns flashed through his mind.

“Murph. Murph!” he cried desperately. “Listen to Connor for just one second!”

Murphy stopped and held the ruler up and out of reach, breathing sharply. He really did look peeved, eyes shooting off sparks, face flushed darkly, staring down like the wrath of God.

But he also looked exactly like he did when he was aroused beyond all reason.

Connor fought to keep the grin off his face. “Look, alright,” he began placatingly.

God help him if he couldn’t stop himself from snickering, because right now he was too naked and tender to contemplate the ocean of hurt Murphy would plunge him into if he didn't get a hold of himself.

Fact was, the matter of seniority had plagued them since they – well, _he_ – could reason, and if Murphy had settled on a method of determination, it would take real finesse to get himself out of this one.

He carefully took his hands off the water bottle and placed them on Murphy’s thighs. They were hard and warm under his hands, and he gave them a squeeze before stroking soothingly.

“Ye know we can’t measure ourselves soft, right?” he asked softly. Murphy nodded. “And ye also know that even if we're hard it'll be unreliable because the size of an erection will vary, depending.”

“On fucken _what_.”

“On factors,” he said quickly, then paused. He slowly sucked in his lower lip. “Like how turned on one is at that moment.”

He smiled beatifically when Murphy glowered down at him, completely oblivious of the precise form of excitement now burning in his eyes.

Since he seemed to at least have Murphy's attention, Connor tried pushing his luck further. “Or whether one’s tender areas have been on ice for the past few hours.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Murphy yelled, releasing his shoulder and smacking the water bottle off his crotch and onto the bed. He realized too late he shouldn't have taken his hands off the bottle when Murphy sharply thwacked the ruler _right_ on his cock. Connor spasmed.

“I _got_ you your fucken hot water bottle,” Murphy said loudly. “You’ve had time to recover from your fucken ice!”

Connor squeezed his eyes shut and howled quietly at the stinging pain, digging his fingers into Murphy’s thighs until it passed enough for him to breathe again. He opened one eye and squeaked, “If I could just have a little more time.”

Murphy eyed him, his sharp breathing now also interestingly shallow, then reluctantly nodded.

“I’ll do mine,” he said hoarsely, “then it’ll be your turn. And no more smart ass comments! We’re gonna sort this fucken thing out!”

“Aye,” Connor sighed, in what he hoped sounded like defeat, and gave Murphy a few seconds to accept his concession.

Then he said in his most nonchalant manner, “I could do it for you, if you like.”

He watched in amusement as Murphy’s face flushed even darker. Murphy sat back on his haunches, his irritation and frustration etched into his furrowed brow.

Connor knew Murphy was struggling with the fact that though it might be faster for Connor to help him get into a state to be measured, there was also the slight problem that he might come in the middle of it all, thereby confusing his goals.

Connor tried pursing his lips, but ended up smirking anyway. “C’mere, Murph,” he said softly. “Before I change my mind on ya.”

“Aye,” Murphy sighed, though his voice was laced with hesitation. He carefully placed the ruler within reach on the bed and Connor tried not to roll his eyes. Connor held him by the hips as he shifted up on his stomach and chest, until his crotch was inches from Connor’s mouth.

Murphy reached for the front of his jeans and Connor whispered “I’ll do it” into his crotch, smiling to himself when Murphy whined quietly above him.

If he could pat himself on the back, he would. Once he got his mouth around Murphy he wasn’t letting him go until Murphy came hard enough to pass out and forget... well, fucken everything. Then maybe he’d be allowed a moment’s peace. He knew the rubber bottle was already cooling somewhere on the bed, and he’d need a fresh refill of warm water when he could use it again.

Murphy wriggled his fingers into Connor’s hair and slowly pressed his hips forward. “Remember, Connor,” he croaked. “Don’t make me come.”

Connor opened his mouth and breathed warm air into Murphy’s crotch, almost grinning when Murphy pushed harder against his nose. He pulled on Murphy’s hips and gently closed his teeth on Murphy’s half hard cock, worrying it through the material.

Murphy whined and clawed Connor’s scalp, encouraging Connor to unbutton his jeans and pull down as far as it would go. Murphy didn’t take his T-shirt off, which Connor supposed was his way of saying this was Official Murph Business and not for either of their pleasure.

The head of Murphy’s cock popped out and bumped Connor’s nose, and Connor hummed in appreciation before coating his tongue with saliva and running it from the base to the tip.

“I- I think I’m ready,” Murphy gasped immediately. And though his hands were twisting through Connor’s hair, Connor noticed that Murphy wasn’t pumping his hips, a level of self control he found slightly worrying. Fucken Christ. Maybe he’d underestimated Murphy’s determination.

He got serious and pressed his wet mouth firmly over Murphy’s tip, in one swift move swallowing him as far down his throat as he would go.

“No!” Murphy wailed. He yanked on Connor's hair, then beat the top of his head. Connor didn't let himself get distracted. He could _hear_ Murphy sweating. He vacuumed the air out of his mouth, making Murphy’s cock slide and lock in place between his hollowed cheeks.

Murphy tried crying out but the sound choked and died in his throat. Connor pumped his lips over Murphy's cock, soaking it completely, groaning deeply because it tasted so good his fucken nipples were having an erection. He swirled his tongue hard and steady around it. Murphy was squeaking as if in pain, shoving at his shoulders.

“Fucken stop!” Murphy howled, then pummeled him. “I need to measure!” He dropped one hand to the bed, scrambling for the ruler, which he found and thwacked over Connor’s head. “I’ll fucken kill ya!”

Connor abruptly pulled his mouth off Murphy’s cock.

As expected, and to his intense satisfaction, Murphy shouted “Oh god, no!” before he caught himself.

Connor looked up at his brother, whose lips were pressed tightly together, face and neck burning red, breaths tearing roughly out of him. He himself was flushed head to foot, his cock standing fully erect. Throbbing, swollen, hurtin’, beggin’, all of it.

And it wasn’t the prospect of a fucken _measurement_ that had put it in that state. It was time to assert the seniority he didn’t need to be told was his.

He dug his fingers into Murphy’s hips and shoved him backwards. “Look at me, Murph!”

Murphy scrunched up his face and looked down with slightly embarrassed eyes.

“Put that _fucken_ ruler down and get a _fucken_ perspective on the situation. Or I swear to Christ you’ll wish you’d never come out after me.”

Murphy whined and nodded and dropped the ruler and shut his eyes and fisted Connor’s hair. Ah, and now he was trying to climb Connor's chest. Much better. _Jaysus_ fucken Christ, he should get sainted for the foolishness he put up with from Murphy.

Connor relaxed into a better position against his pillows and pulled Murphy’s jeans as low as could be managed. Murphy came to him, and he proceeded to lick him until Murphy was steadily wailing variations on his name, over and over, like a litany he’d memorized in school. Connor held him and pumped his mouth on his cock, just as steadily, drenching him until Murphy was gurgling like a baby, until Murphy’s body seized and shuddered through what appeared to be a fucken brutal orgasm.

After Murphy finally stopped convulsing, Connor gently let his cock slide out of his mouth. He reached up and grabbed Murphy’s arms, pulling him down. Murphy came willingly, the fight seemingly sucked out of him.

Connor smirked at his pun.

Murphy laid down half on top of him and slid one leg and arm over his body, his leg carefully avoiding Connor’s crotch where his cock still raged. He pushed his face into Connor's neck and began lapping at Connor's tattoo of the Blessed Mother.

Connor closed his eyes and let out a shaky, appreciative breath. He knew he shouldn’t gloat, but then he wouldn’t be the elder, now would he?

“We could always keep the ruler for rappin’ yer knuckles whenever you misbehaved,” he suggested.

Murphy had pushed an arm under his body, holding him tight, scratching his back. “What?” he asked thickly.

Connor actually felt his cock expand, he was so fucken pleased with himself. Then Murphy licked his neck harder, then softer, and sucked on his skin. Then he opened his mouth and breathed on the moisture. Then holding them both still, he lapped mindlessly at the tingling skin.

Connor nearly lost his mind, groaning deep in his throat. _Ohh Christ._ The things Murph was good at. And suddenly he was wondering whether anyone who could do something like that wasn’t older and wiser than he.

And when Murphy shifted and chewed his way down his body, Connor found himself rocking under him, wondering even harder. He was all but convinced when Murphy gripped him behind the knees and spread him, gently, and oh, so carefully giving his poor mistreated nuts the licking they so deserved.

But by the time Murphy had him pinned into the mattress, slanting his chest over his stomach and started sucking his brains out of his cock, Connor was certain he was born centuries after Murphy had already perfected the use of his mouth.

But he didn’t tell Murphy that. Instead, as his climax rushed him, he opened his mouth and just screamed Murphy’s name. _Safe enough._

_End_


End file.
